


Wishing He Had Never Left at All

by Joley123



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joley123/pseuds/Joley123
Summary: Have you healed from the Branjie breakup? Because I have not. So, have a cute reconciliation oneshot to feel better, or worse, depending on your outlook. To get the full effect, I suggest listening to 'One of Us' off the Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again soundtrack.





	Wishing He Had Never Left at All

Mondays usually indicate the start of the week, but for nearly every queen in Los Angeles, it was the first chance to relax after one of the busiest few days of the year. It was a day to sleep in, to nurse hangovers and sore muscles back to health. Others may take the time to look through fan gifts or like their tagged meet and greet pictures on social media. 

And then there was Brooke Lynn Hytes, sitting in the hotel bathtub and staring catatonic at the ceiling. Objectively, this should have been the best weekend of his life – he had spent it surrounded by friends and fans, hardly having a moment of silence. And maybe it was necessary to have that shield to buffer out any emotion. That’s what he did best. 

Guilt, however, is one of the most difficult emotions to suppress. It eats away at you until you face it head-on. In this case, head-on meant on television surrounded by your peers. Ever since they had filmed the reunion, guilt was once again at the forefront of his mind, and nothing thus far has been able to assuage the sinking feeling in his chest. And as hard as it was for him to admit it to himself, the guilt was justified because it was his fault.

Brooke had been the one to break up with Vanessa, the one that got scared. He was the one that couldn’t leave his heart unguarded enough to work things out with the most loving person he had ever met. It had taken him far too long to realize it, but he didn’t just feel guilt. He felt regret and spent the month of May regretting the choice to prioritize freedom over love more than ever.

Now, they were preparing to spend another chunk of their lives together while on tour, and he didn’t know how he was going to cope if he didn’t make things right. But what was right at this point? He stepped out of the bath and looked at his phone. Vanessa is still his wallpaper. And his home screen. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his fingers through his damp curls and walking out to flop onto the bed. For what felt like hours, he lay on the bed, replaying every fight, every moment of fear and anger. But they were coupled with happy memories from better times. Both made his heart ache in longing, and he could only imagine how Vanessa must have felt on the receiving end. Perhaps against his better judgement, however, he picked his phone back up. “Vanjie?”

“What’s up?” there was sleepiness in Vanessa’s voice, but still seemed happy to hear from him.

Brooke hesitated, but forced himself to not chicken out for a second time. “I need to talk to you. Alone and as soon as possible.”

“Oh…okay. Yeah, just show up whenever I guess,” Vanessa clearly sounded concerned, but didn’t press for more information – much to Brooke’s relief – the conversation had to be had completely in person. 

So, Brooke did show up fifteen minutes later and let himself into Vanessa’s apartment. He saw him sat on the couch in a t-shirt and boxers, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “You really dressed up for me, Vanjie,” he teased as he sat beside him. 

“You didn’t tell me there was a dress code,” Vanessa shoved him playfully. “Talk to me, boo. You sounded like you were feeling some type of way.” 

Brooke’s smile faltered and he took a deep breath. He took Vanessa’s hand between both of his and looked into his eyes. “There is…so much I have to say to you, Jose.”

This caught him off guard. “Oh, we’re switching to our boy names today? Guess this is serious,” Jose sat upright, realizing there was only one thing that could elicit these emotions from the other, and the tone immediately shifted. “Brooke—Brock…this is about us, isn’t it? Are you sure you want to have this conversation?”

Brock chewed on his lip and looked down. “We have to, because I owe you more apologies than one lifetime could hold. I treated you wrong, took you for granted, then bailed as soon as things got too real. I thought…” he exhaled, trying to keep an even keel. “I thought I needed freedom but being alone doesn’t mean being free, and I wish I realized that sooner and spared you all of this bullshit. It kills me to see you hurt, even worse when it’s my fault. You deserve someone that wants to be with you,” he paused and finally looked back to him. “Even if they’ve been stupid and took a while to figure it out.”

Jose looked up to blink away tears and breathed deeply to combat the pounding in his chest. This was everything he’d wanted to hear during their relationship, even after it. But hearing it now was almost overwhelming. “You know I forgive you,” he told him, looking down, then up and away, then finally back at him. “You’re not just telling me what I wanna hear, are you?”

“There’s nothing I could say that would prove beyond a doubt that I’m being real. Words don’t mean shit if you can’t follow through, that’s something I’ve learned from you,” Brock smiled wanly. “I thought being on my own was what I needed to live my best life, and I was blind enough to miss the fact that I already was,” he squeezed Jose’s hand, “with you.”

The ‘declaration of love’ trope was in every romantic movie that Jose loved, it was the best part as far as he was concerned. Was this it? Was this his second chance at having his _The Notebook_ fantasy with Brock? Part of him worried it was too good to be true, but the rest of him had already melted into a puddle. “How many times you practice that?” he chuckled softly, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Way too many, oh my god,” Brock admitted with a laugh. He pulled him on to his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist. “So, you’ll take me back one more time?” he asked, batting his lashes and placing small, soft kisses along his jaw.

Jose shifted to cup his face and kiss him tenderly. “No more post-its, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Then go get your shit from the hotel and get back here,” he instructed, grinning broadly and sharing another affectionate kiss. 

And that he did, and he spent the night. Brock hadn’t realized how much he missed waking up and having Jose in his arms until he was lucky enough to experience it again. He beamed as the sunlight shone through the window and hit his sleeping boyfriend’s face. It was peaceful, picturesque – it made him realize he had something to look forward to every morning from now on. 

“Morning,” Jose whispered when his eyes opened. He pecked his lips and shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom. He furrowed his brows, seeing something stuck to the mirror, then laughed quietly when he realized it was, of course, a post-it. When he grabbed it to read, he was suddenly certain he had made the right decision to follow his heart.

_‘One last post-it, I swear:_

_  
_

_I love you.’_


End file.
